


Fateful Destinations and Fractured Stars

by Anonymous



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Angst and Fluff, Brother/Brother Incest, Character Study, Claiming, Cleaning the DMC shop, Dante (Devil May Cry) is a Brat, Drabble, Implied Mpreg, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Incest, M/M, Nero is a DanVer kid, No Smut, Oneshot, Possessive Vergil (Devil May Cry), Post-DMC5, References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, References to Canon, Relationship Study, Sibling Incest, Slow Dancing, Soulmates, Spardacest (Devil May Cry), Spardacest without sex, Tags Are Hard, Twincest, Vergil (Devil May Cry) is a shit, Vergil is just so done, call the ghost busters for the mould on the wallpaper, cleanfreak Vergil, controlfreak Vergil, descriptions are hard, does it still count as a pigsty if it's the shop?, implied father-son incest, is it really the end of the world if there isn't a giant tree or tower?, my first incest fic, no betas we die like men, past dante/nero, please suggest tags, references to Judo-Christian Religion & Lore, sadness and feels, so much prose, tagging to be safe, the return of racoon dante, will update as I find errors, wombmates?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:48:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28456329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: His brother's soul burned brighter than all others, but he still forgot, because of course, he did. Luckily, Vergil was there to help him remember.A study of Vergil, with greek mythology thrown in.
Relationships: Dante/Nero (Devil May Cry), Dante/Vergil (Devil May Cry)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27
Collections: Anonymous, Spardacest Server Fics and Art





	Fateful Destinations and Fractured Stars

**Author's Note:**

> A special thanks to the Spardacest discord server for putting up with my snippets and bitching. And an extra special thanks to the people who's dm's I invaded, you guys are great. You know who you are.  
> Edited with the actual formatting, because apparently, I don't know how this site works.

Perhaps they were fated to always return to a scene like that. Perhaps it was inevitable.

A Fire was blazing, but from within this time rather than out, an inexplicable heat merging as they soared into each other's arms, melding in a way only they could, colliding and crashing, only to tear apart once more in anger and hurt. When they fought, it was until the last breath, and when one of them inevitably fell, the other was inevitably there to scrape them from the ground and reconstruct them, soft words of love healing old hurts and pouring panacea into the wounds. When they made love, because it was love, regardless of how much blood was spilt in the fury of the storm they created, it was a forbidden requiem torn from the leaves of the Apocrypha itself, limbs that no human should have, twisted in ways no ordinary person could. When they slept in the same bed, fire and brimstone surrounded their senses, where a human would smell only fabric softener and clean sheets.

The preparations for that night were underway. There was so much to do, and only a limited time to do it in. Vergil stood at the bottom of the stairs, wearing a pair of marigolds on his hands and some musty old overalls he had dredged from the bottom of Dante’s wardrobe. How long they had been there, shoved at the bottom of the wardrobe, unseen and unheard, he would probably never learn, but it didn’t matter, his hand gripping a bucket filled with hot water and bleach so that he could finally clean like he had planned to do. Looking over Dante’s kingdom of filth, he fought off a scoff of nausea, someday, he would convince his brother to redecorate, make it nicer for the clientele. That could wait until his self-assigned task of cleaning the main floor of Devil May Cry was complete. 

Taking the packet of store-bought sponges and cleaning cloths out of the overalls pocket, and using a spectral sword to open it, Vergil let the packet fall to the floor as he fished out one of the cloths into the hand the packet had occupied. As the sound of the packet hitting the floor sounded, he set off, a hurricane hitting a storm-swept island. Would that the gods have sent Saytars to aid him in this momentous task. 

Taking a deep breath to focus, he immediately regretted his action, the odour of leftover alcohol and rotting pizza filling his lungs, much to his regret. _Holy and unholy divines in existence, please take pity on my unimmaculate soul. Even I don’t deserve this, surely…? _He pleaded to the air around him, as though a god would suddenly appear from the atmosphere and aid him on this godforsaken self-proclaimed task. Heavens above, he deserved some kind of divine reward for doing this. Perhaps this task would completely cleanse his black stain on the karma report card that the gods seemed to keep these days.__

____

Circulating the dust and smell from the room with a small release of magic and ozone, Vergil took a deep breath then coughed. Perhaps this decision was the most stupid one he had made yet. Cleaning the Shop was certainly more deadly than raising the Temen-Ni-Gru and infinitely more dangerous to his health than the Qliphoth has ever been, even in his half-living state as V, he felt a spike of phantom fear wash through him before he snorted once more, his demon rolling restlessly under his skin at the thought of the task ahead.

____

The musty old jukebox that Vergil _could have sworn _was a Devil arm if not for his senses telling him it wasn’t; retrofitted with new disks especially for later that evening; Nico had talked him through it while Dante was away on a job; the floor swept and mopped until the decades of grime revealed a hard oak grain, bottles and pizza boxes removed and thrown out so that the floor was not only clean but shone. Banners of soft sky blues, roses and lavenders hanging on the walls, covering the god-forsaken pictures and age-old wallpaper that was peeling and cracked. It surprised Vergil that a demon wasn’t living in the building itself, the amount of dirt was disturbing.__

______ _ _

The wallpaper, he could live with, tacky and out-dated as it was. The _mould _he had scrubbed from the paper itself, he couldn’t. Who knew what was cultivating in it? He didn’t know how long it had been on the paper, but judging by the colour of the paper underneath it, he could guess. The resulting thoughts almost turned his stomach, but he held back, it would only give him more work to complete.__

________ _ _ _ _

His stomach turned thinking about it, demonic constitution or no.

________ _ _ _ _

The desk. That damned desk. Of course, it was too much to expect that it was clean, given how it looked, but he had hoped. Only to have that hope dashed the moment he took a wet cloth to it, gagging at the change of colour revealed under the cloth’s path. There wasn’t much he could do to dredge that sacrilegious thing back from the pits of hell it had wound up in. He wiped it down with some bleach on a cloth, grimacing at the muck that came off. If only he could sink the entire thing in the bucket he had, but alas, even a witch's power was not enough to get that thing clean. And to think. The things he had done to Dante in the name of love. Good heavens above, truly.  
The small photo frame on the desk, bearing the image of their mother, was given a once over with bleach after the image was removed. That Dante could stand to keep a beloved picture in such a condition was a sin of the highest degree.  
The glove - No. he didn’t want to think about it. It was dirty. He doubted it had been washed since - Nope, better to avoid thinking about it at all. Harvesting it from the place on the desk that it has been populating, with the tips of his fingers, he reeled from it, quickly wiped the location it had been sat on and placed it back down, turning his head away from the offensive thing and taking a deep breath to steady himself.

________ _ _ _ _

His brother was - Dante was asleep. Because of course, he was. Not that it mattered, It made the preparations easier without him in the way. He would either try to stop Vergil or seduce him with his wicked ways. That, on this day of all days, Vergil could not afford. Everything had to be perfect.

________ _ _ _ _

It was too much to hope that Dante would remember what the occasion was, given the number of empty bottles Vergil had removed and the foul stench of alcohol permeating the air, that not even a strong air freshener could not remove. He had tried, asking Nico for suggestions that she had dragged up from the darkest parts of “The web.” He didn’t understand what she had meant by that, but it didn't matter. The suggestions she had given him couldn’t pierce the smell gained from wood drinking alcohol for perhaps two decades. He had tested on a small patch in the kitchen, in one of the darker corners where his brother wouldn’t notice as easily. He had attempted suggestions from the local stores and store clerks, which unsurprisingly hadn’t helped either and at this point, he was debating perhaps entering into a demonic deal that either removed the smell from the shop, or his sense of smell entirely. He hadn’t _quite _decided which yet.__

____

________ _ _ _ _

____

The billiards table and been wiped and polished within an inch of its life, the baize brushed and hoovered with a fabric upholstery brush, the balls shining like marbles, the cues cleaner than they had probably been in their entire life at Devil May Cry

____

________ _ _ _ _

____

How his brother and their son had managed to live like this together was beyond him, that Nero could have stood being in squalor and in Dante’s bed at the same time made his head spin. Was this the true power of their father? That Nero had coped with the condition of the shop before he committed fully to his betrothed was quite honestly, intriguing and concerning. _Perhaps that’s why Nero dealt so well with the children, _Vergil noted to himself, a flick of humour in his mental voice, _Dante had given him training before Nero left for Kyrie. _Himself and Dante had only been back a week or so, and already, Vergil was going mad with the state of Dante’s living conditions, be it the mess, the odour, the lack of flushable toilets or consistent meals that weren’t just warm pizza or leftover goddamned pizza. Even Vergil, in hell, had at least eaten demon meat consistently enough to keep alive, if not well fed. He was this close to making a meal planner and chores schedule for himself and Dante to follow, not that Dante would probably follow it. He rolled his eyes at the thought.____

____

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____

Kicking off the borrowed overalls and placing them into a black trash bag to throw out, he paused again for a moment to brush the lint off his shirt and trousers before he scanned the room, casting a critical eye about the main living area. It was...Liveable, at least. For now, anyway, and would work with his intentions for this evening. Throwing the marigold gloves he had been wearing into the bleach bucket and moving the entire container into the kitchen was an easy task. Now, to complete the preparations.

____

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____

Stepping quietly over to the battered old jukebox, he clicked the buttons, selecting the tracks for this evening and grimaced at the layer of muck coming away from the buttons. Grabbing a clean napkin from the pile left over from all the take out pizzas on Dante’s desk, and wiping clean his hands once more, he set about grabbing fresh clean glasses, allowing his tail to appear to grab the champagne from the fridge and hold it off the floor, moving to place them on a countertop and pour the champagne ready for his brother.

____

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____

Uttering a small prayer to whatever divine creation that just so happened to be listening to him at that particular moment, and asking for a blessing from Terpsichore to guide him through the evening he had planned, he took a deep breath to steady himself, vanishing his partial trigger to brush down his suit with shaking hand that he attempted to stabilise and failed to do so. Biting back a curse at himself, his head flinched up, ears picking on his head at the faint noise from above.

____

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____

Hearing a thump on the floor above him, he gave a small grin before taking a deep breath, placing the bottle down as carefully as he could on the counter next to the glasses, and came out of the kitchen, closing the door behind him as he did so, gulping back his fear, he forced a soft grin on his face. In his mind, he chanted a prelude to Eirene, forcing peacefulness and serenity into his overworked body and mind. _Please, let us have just this one evening. It doesn’t matter what else come, please just let us have this... ___

____

_____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____

His brother, his other half, his perfect sculpture carved directly from selenite crystal, flaws and imperfections showing; forming a statue of such unnatural splendour that even an angelic choir would have trouble matching the beauty of, stood at the bottom of the stairs. Vergil offered his beloved a shallow bow, a hand dipping into his waistcoat to bring out a single red rose out of it and offering it in Dante’s direction. Dante blinked his weary eyes, awoken from his slumber by the soft vibrations of music from the jukebox, a long and slow sigh of wonderment escaping him at his brother's antics, but he took the offered hand nevertheless, his other plucking the rose from his brother’s palm and pushing a thorn into his bare chest with a lazy smile. “Better than a pocket, yeah?” Vergil watched him, his eyes following the small trickle of blood with a frown, resisting the urge to lean further forward and follow its path with his tongue, following it to paths unknown.

____

____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____

Dante cast an eye over Vergil who had dressed up for the occasion, a clean dress shirt pressed and tucked into what looked like suit trousers. His hair was a silken silver halo against the filament from the light bulb in the centre of the room, leaving him feeling undressed in his sweatpants. Taking a deep breath to stabilise his palpitating heart and to try and crush the heat pooling in his gut at seeing his beloved dressed up for him. "Verge, what...?"

____

____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____

Vergil took the hand in his own, his fingers mapping his reflections hands as he did so, bringing it to his lips and brushing the back of it with his lips, a slender smile promising the secrets of the universe, before moving it to his side and offering out the other hand, drawing his twin in closer to him. “I do so hope you remember those dancing lessons, brother mine.” He murmured silkily into his brother’s ear, ignoring the shiver that overtook his brother’s form, “Perhaps think of this as practice for the wedding?”  
“The kid’s all grown up now, huh?”  
“Shush.” Pressing a chaste kiss to his brother’s cheek and moving one of his own hands (and by proxy, Dante's own) to their shoulders, beginning a soft rocking back and forth to the rhythm of the music. The tune itself was far too slow to make a true step to, but intimacy at this moment was needed more than just simple lust.  
“Tonight is our night, brother mine, and we will dance through the Fabric woven by Nyx and stride upon those who look down on us. They shall fear _and _love us this night, brother mine.”__

____

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____

And if the gods didn’t love or fear them by the morning, they would have hell to pay. Ah, to the faculties of mortality and morality.

____

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____

As the music upped its tempo, so did they, Dante moved his head to one of Vergil's shoulders and sighed in contentment, a pleased rumble emerging from his demon, and a comfortable hush falling between them. If it had been another moment, Vergil may have been concerned, but as of this moment he didn't mind the silence, a rare gift given directly from the gods, and he would honour it as a miracle it was.

____

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____

Continuing to sway, he felt Dante’s breath ghosting his neck as a pleased purr tugged itself from the place their chests met. The demon rolling under his skin urged him to skin his teeth into his younger twin and drink from his lifeblood, claim him, mark him, make him _theirs _, but he squashed the urge, willing himself to keep the peace and calm for just a little while, the carnal urge would come later, of course.__

____

________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____

Stepping together in unison, Vergil allowed his eyes to close, resting his head on Dante’s crown, a small huff of amusement leaving him as he felt his twin's hands begin exploring his behind once more. _Typical glutton, _he mentally voiced, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips as he turned his head to press a gentle kiss to Dante’s crown. _My lovely glutton. Never change. _Feeling his breath hitch, and Dante moving his head from under his chin, he clung tighter, begging to the gods that this dream hold, that he would never wake, that they would become one and never need to part...____

____

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____

And all the gods in the endless skies, as though allowing him this one saving grace, kept Dante quiet, listening to the tale told by Vergil’s own heart, a song sung since their conception, one that they both knew all the words to, if not the full tune. They would face the moments together no not at all. As they traced the movements of the stars under their feet, they clung to each other in desperation born from too long split apart. _Perhaps this was indeed not the real world we belong to, _Vergil noted with a disconnect from the mortal pleasures he felt echoing through him. _Perhaps this is just a fever dream, perhaps this isn’t my body, this is a vision Mundus cooked up to keep me compliant. If this is a dream come true, never let me wake up… _____

_______ _ _ _

______________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______ _ _ _

Death by dancing the night away with the person he loved above all else. Hades, upon his Dark Throne in the heart of the infinity of the underworld, would be pleased. The bards in their towers would sing of their passing for millennia, and monuments would be constructed of their forbidden love, just like the gods of eld, and just like the heroes in those tales, they would be turned to stone and forgotten, their bodies broke down into the core elements and components and scattered to every corner of the world, only to be reborn in obsidian and lava. An unending cycle of pain, suffering, love and joy.

_______ _ _ _

______________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______ _ _ _

Such a _cruel _fate, to love the one who loved you back, Vergil noted, a pleasing half sigh half purr leaving his throat against his wishes, a noise reflected by his mirror opposite, encased in his arms. Akin to the Twins Gemini, Castor and Pollux, they lived side by side, their tales mimicking that of the divine twins themselves. How many prayers had Dante chanted, to try and beg for Vergil’s own life back? How many broken words and fated whispered had been caught into the stale air of their bedroom, trying to beg to the divine creatures beyond to return Vergil to him? How many lives has Dante…?__

_________ _ _ _ _ _

______________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

It didn’t matter. None of it did, or perhaps all of it did. Perhaps there had been a god willing to listen to the broken pleas for a genocidal murderer to be returned, perhaps a deal had been struck, Euridyce pleading from the grave instead of Orpheus marching on the gates of the underworld. 

________ _ _ _ _

______________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

For now, it didn’t matter at all. 

________ _ _ _ _

______________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

He was cursed, but he didn’t mind. The curse affected them both, as it should. Twins to the end, and unto the beginning. Repeated time and again.

________ _ _ _ _

______________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

As one perfect being, they moved, breathed, lived. A symbiotic relationship, one not complete, not whole without the other. Their combined soul, split in half, fragmented and sewn together, patching itself and repairing the longer they continued to harmonise at a single pure structure.

________ _ _ _ _

______________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

Perhaps he had been Dante all along, or Dante had been him this whole time, or perhaps both were correct and they were an unholy amalgamation of both. Perhaps they had been one entity living in madness and fury, blood and anguish. It didn’t matter that their skin felt too small upon their human skeleton, that the demons within were clamouring for them to merge and fuck, that their breath was laced with sleep and bliss. As one they continued to tell the tale of the cosmos under them, tracing the birth of the universe and the creation of the stars in their step.

________ _ _ _ _

______________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

Locked in a heady trance, they, or perhaps he, as a single, twirled and spun, insert here a flourish and a pirouette, legs bending, feet moving, hands clammy and digging into fabric and flesh, ignore the perpetual hum of the filament shining like a dying star above them and focus only on the feel and breath of the other in their arms and souls, and essence.

________ _ _ _ _

______________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

Hands combine, limbs elongating, claws digging into tender flesh, merging into tendons and skin, a head on a firm shoulder, a hand on a waist and another on a hip. A single entity spinning and merging, before escaping between the cracks and grooves of the intertwined souls slowly moving in time with the soft melody echoing from the battered jukebox. Insert here, a breath stolen from nearby lips, a kiss consisting of only tongue and teeth. A whole unholy action of lungs born from the same flesh and blood. Hearts born from the same womb meeting in time with his opposite, the intersection of two souls in two bodies that should have been one, but a wicked twist in fate cursed them apart, just like the legends of the gods of old.

________ _ _ _ _

______________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

And like those tales of the worlds being formed, like the tale of Moses parting the seas, or finding a burning bush, like the fall of the first Demon, or the birth of the first of the gods, they would build their tale, becoming legends and deities in their own right, and upon their power. Perhaps _this _was the true gift that their father had left them, the power to linger on the breath of every lover, just like aphrodite on the lips of everyone who ever dared to kiss another person, soul, or form.__

________ _ _ _ _

____

________ _ _ _ _

______________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

____

________ _ _ _ _

And from the glistening wood of the Midas touched floor below them, Ophelia gazed, guiding their steps with murmured words and barely heard thoughts, the jukebox played by Orpheus himself, the crowd of divinity listening and watching, the music a gift of wine and water from a golden grail. The love they shared echoed by the nymph Styx and her lover, Pyriphlegethon, a forbidden thing, all lust, yearning and hunger, but allowed to exist with only the blessing of the gods behind them. From their eyes, narcissus watched, demanding an encore from within and without, and they would provide. Their hands fed upon each other as did Dionysus when he had supped upon the sacred honey he had received from Aristaeus, passions flaring and burning hotter than all the rivers of archeon combined, from the filament above them, Apollo feasted upon a banquet fit only for the divine and requested a second serving, as though he were a mortal starved.

________ _ _ _ _

____

________ _ _ _ _

______________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

____

________ _ _ _ _

Armoured paws mirroring each other's steps, scaled limbs barely intertwining before parting again, an ancient ritual repeated time and again, to be perfected and reflected by his soulmate, one spun from their mother's womb. A love born from the same lifeblood, unholy, cursed, but oh so blessed. Perhaps it was to be written upon tablets in ancient temples, struck from the pillars of creation, only to be remembered in ancient songs and bards who sang them, or perhaps it would be a forgotten event, akin to the birth of the universe rather than a well-worn tale, but it mattered not. Hands releasing waists to spin the other, before reclaiming lost territory on each other's body, a solemn pact of surrender without words. Their beings treading the same path that the cosmos before them had for millennia. A collision of celestial bodies repeating the same dance as them; perhaps it was destiny that led them so, or perhaps simple lust. Either way, they dance, hand in hand, body to body, breaths conjoining in the shared air.

________ _ _ _ _

____

________ _ _ _ _

______________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

____

________ _ _ _ _

The music thumping in the air, skin sparking against the fabric as a hand rose from one of them to rest on the sharper features of his better half. Always his better. Or perhaps they were one. It wasn’t them dancing together, but just one. Souls and identities blending in the heady haze of music and warm breath. As one, they breathe until one of them ( or perhaps both) laugh a soft tone, the sound mixing in the room, an atmosphere of silk and smog built on the ruins of old wounds and blood.

________ _ _ _ _

____

________ _ _ _ _

______________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

____

________ _ _ _ _

The old gods themselves were watching from above and judging them, cheering from the sidelines; would that they would be judged worthy or not didn’t matter, like all else, and even if they were judged unworthy, they would continue, a taste of the forbidden fruit of Eden in their steps, unholy and glorious just like the shattered remnants of stars gone supernova in their eyes as they gazed at each other, the image of perfection reflected in the gaze of each other's love.

________ _ _ _ _

____

________ _ _ _ _

______________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

____

________ _ _ _ _

Was this how he ended the world? Not with a damnable tower, or an overgrown tree, or even a bang, but a slow, solemn slide into madness and lust. Cronus would be proud of him. Felling the gods with the gifts them themselves had parted to mortality, only to be used as weapons against them. Irony at it’s finest. But that could wait until this moment was over. Instead, he focused on Dante, in his arms, where he had always wanted him. His heart bore a dante shaped hole that was slowly being filled by the presence of the man he would give the world to please.

________ _ _ _ _

____

________ _ _ _ _

______________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

____

________ _ _ _ _

The music changed to a softer beat, and with it, Pan recalled the satyrs and frolicked amongst the notes himself, guiding the waves of music with a steady hoof, and they too, as one being changed tempo with it, falling to each others’ stride almost immediately, and the spell was unmade before being rewoven, their souls snapping to the right bodies and heat spun with love, becoming lifelines guiding them back to their beings, before parting again into a single existence. Dante laughed once more, a clamour of noise echoed back at him by Vergil’s purr.

________ _ _ _ _

____

________ _ _ _ _

______________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

____

________ _ _ _ _

Did the dust know of the deeds they were creating? Did the endless sea of Zeus’s realm watch them with pity and laugh at their misfortune to have fallen in love with themselves? Did the angelic choir of heavenly beings, the Cherubin, or even Eros, blessed with the blood of Aphrodite that he was, know the fates they had threaded to themselves from each others’ life, did the Moirai Clotho watch with interest, following the silver strands of halo following them? Did her sister, Lachesis grin down from her seat in the stars to break them apart? Did it matter that all the devils down below were screeching for blood? Perhaps not, as all they needed was in each other, at this moment. He would fight them all for the right to continue to hold Dante in his arms for eternity and beyond. 

________ _ _ _ _

____

________ _ _ _ _

______________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

____

________ _ _ _ _

But even eternity didn’t and doesn’t last forever. Their Father had proved that to them at a young age. Would that they could return to those bygone days of yore…

________ _ _ _ _

____

________ _ _ _ _

______________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

____

________ _ _ _ _

But right now, all that mattered was this moment. Forget all else.

________ _ _ _ _

____

________ _ _ _ _

______________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

____

________ _ _ _ _

If only Morpheus could freeze them right now, Hypnos giving birth to their hopes and prayers as they moved through the essence of Nyx, A moment of Elysium, in a sea of chaos and torment. Perhaps they were destined to fade into Tartarus, to be forgotten in the rivers of Lethe before passing from this realm into the furthest arms of Olympus or to linger on the Asphodel Meadows, as shadows of themselves, knowing only that they belonged but never to find who or why. Or destined to ever wander Oceanus looking for the pair of themselves that they would never find again, and feeling the torn pieces calling to each other. Or perhaps they would serve as food for all the sleeping titans when they awoke, the constant demonic regeneration feeding those who bore the gods for an eternity, and the brothers would scream in pain, and hold each other through it. Or perhaps not. Maybe they would be called forth by Aphrodite and Ares and celebrated.  
It didn’t matter. Dante was _His, and His only. ___

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

____

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

____

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

A curse of the gods indeed, but what a blessed curse to endure. 

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

____

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

____

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

Vergil didn’t want to think about the thoughts. He focused his mind’s eye on his beloved and adored twin currently sharing his warmth and life, souls blending and re-combining, two souls in two bodies, ever apart but forever together in each other’s heart. A sentiment echoed by his brother’s hum and quiet contemplation of his own. If only Vergil could read his mind, but alas, the gods hadn’t seen fit to gift him that gift yet. Perhaps when he fought them for the right to keep Dante by his side, he would demand it from them.

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

____

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

____

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

Such a wicked life he dwelt in, such as it was, but he would take all the humiliation and anguish that Mundas gave him thousands of times over if he was given this each time. It was the ambrosia he needed to feel complete. His soul, his joy, his mate. Everything he was and had been was Dante’s, just as it had been from the womb. A tale as old as time, burned into their veins and threading their souls together. 

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

____

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

____

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

The fates, and gods by proxy, or virtue, Vergil decided, were indeed kind. 

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

____

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

____

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Brother mine, all that I am and shall ever be, is yours. Just as the heavens need the lands below.”  
“You ol’ sap.”  
A sigh of fondness escaped Vergil's lips at his brother's antics, the spell is broken between them, though arms still clinging to each other, he pressed a kiss to his brother’s cheek, a murmur following. “Happy birthday, brother mine.”  
“It’s our birthday? Huh, I hadn’t noticed.”  
“Typical brat.” Another kiss to Dante’s crown and a shake of the head.  
“Yep,” Dante held the sound of the P as long as he could, grinning up at his older half, “but I’m yours.”  
“Always and forever, brother mine.”

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

____

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

____

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

Perhaps they were fated to always return to a scene like this, snow beginning to fall outside, and their hearts providing the fire within them, but it didn't matter. Perhaps it was inevitable. Together they were perfect, and in each other's heart, they would remain. Biology may have made them maternal twin brothers, but true love transcended all. Even something as seemingly unlawful and immoral to their human minds. Hopefully, if their parents are watching from wherever they had gone, they would not be judging them with human imposed morals.

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

____

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

____

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _


End file.
